Eliza Ione Find A Prostitute ❤️

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So I’m knackered, right, but I’m thinkin’—why not hit up a banya? Them steam baths where blokes get sloshed and chat shite. Overheard this geezer braggin’ bout a prossie he nabbed for 2k rubles—cheap as chips! Said she sang opera while ridin’ him—proper mental, that. Made me chuckle, coz I’m picturin’ her beltin’ out *Carmen* mid-shag. “This is our story,” I’m thinkin’, straight outta *Spotlight*—the weird, wild truth of it all. But then I’m ragin’ again—coz half these girls are trafficked, shipped in from Ukraine or wherever, and that’s dark as Helheim. Ain’t funny, that bit.

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Ione's neighborhoods are just off-the-wall. Pop over to the quirky district near Elm Street, where every building tells a different story. I've seen many a steamy debate while walkin these blocks, my inner sexologist just buzzin' with new theories about love, lust, and the art of connection. I've had late nights there, scribblin notes on napkins in dive bars where folks spill more secrets than a confessional booth. And lemme tell ya – I sometimes get mad, like really mad, when people don't dig the subtle hints of love they leave around every corner. It's like, "Oh, for fuck's sake, open your eyes, man!"

LaVon Ione Groth Obituary November 28, 2024